I was busily peeling and cutting apples when I noticed that a couple of them had a Liberty Bell-shaped sticker.
Friday, July 3, 2026
getting ready
The heat's intense and the air conditioner is humming, which makes me feel in another world. I'm sure the cats also feel that way, very different from the winters, when we're also shut in, but without the humming.
There is a birdbath on one side of the house, near a tree. Last night I found a couple of tins and filled them with water for the outside neighbors, with a rock in one of them, for the other side of the property - the brook is dry.
I intend to bake an apple pie, so I should get going. The phrase, "As American as apple pie" came to me, so I thought it a good idea when I was planning the menu for tomorrow, but with so much electricity being used in southern New England, to use the oven at a high temperature for almost an hour seems silly.
I'm going to do it, anyway.
Sunday, June 28, 2026
Christ is alive
Christ is alive! No longer bound
To distant years in Palestine,
But saving, healing, here and now,
And touching every place and time.
In every insult, rift and war,
Where color, scorn or wealth divide,
Christ suffers still, yet loves the more,
And lives, where even hope has died.
Loving Father, we praise you with all our heart, for you have rescued us.
Preserve us, protect us. Change our mourning into dancing.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
- from Magnificat, June 2026
Tuesday, June 23, 2026
things that sparkle
Less than an hour before dark, and I see the sun gilding the trees in the back yard. After an overcast and rain on-and-off day. Tomorrow will be nice - the air feels drier already!
The fireflies are out!
Something dawned on me just lately: when it gets humid I can hardly function, and have to almost force myself to do things. Today, I wanted to clean the tiled walls in the bathroom, which needed more than wiping off the dust. I quickly did it almost right after I got up, before it got warm, before it reached that tipping point. Why does it take us so long to figure these things out?
"The life of a Christian is a prayer. We are like diamonds, shining in many different ways. Each facet has been polished by God. Our very being renders glory to him. The simple fact that we are baptized in the death and resurrection of Christ is enough to make us a prayer. Sweeping, washing, cleaning, serving our families in small ways - all this is prayer."
- Catherine de Hueck Doherty
I like my quiet times in the morning, with my prayer book, my Bible, my rosary and the birdsong. But I don't want to be so rigid that I can't see a better way in different seasons.
"Studying is a prayer, if this is what we are supposed to be doing. Being sick is a prayer; being healthy is a prayer. I can't imagine any aspect of a Christian life that is not a facet of this sparkling diamond...."
Sunday, June 21, 2026
Fathers' Day
"As he bumped the car up the drive he deplored with sudden impatience the inescapable and impossible demands that his children make upon a man. It would have been more comfortable to have remained a bachelor and wallowed along in the agreeable state of self-deception that had been his before marriage. Fatherhood revealed one's inadequacies in an appalling manner..."
- The Heart of the Family, Elizabeth Goudge
patience: a matter of faith
"Patience...is really a matter of faith in the providence of God. If we can accept in our heart that this unpleasant moment is a vehicle of God's concern, then we will be less angry and depressed and more able to avoid inner rebellion. Instead of blaming those around us for negative experiences, we need to develop a robust faith in providence, alive to the action of God in our daily life. If we are blind to this action, we will reject the value of our concrete circumstances. Instead of growing through difficulties, we will want to run away. The perception that God is in this situation and we are called to find him here and now is a very great gift of grace.
This trust in providence has another advantage: it enables us to seize every opportunity. It is something energizing. If we believe God is acting in our lives, we will be more inclined to take testing times seriously....The key to patience is faith."
- Sister Mary David Totah, O.S.B. From Magnificat, June 2926
Monday, June 15, 2026
good ideas
I sat at my sewing table a few minutes ago and there before me was a beautiful sunset, all pink and gold. I have no idea how to photograph such a thing; I've tried. All I could do was watch. These sort of moments are like being in an Elizabeth Goudge story.
I wore my daffodil dress yesterday in the heat. Since I like this simple style so much, I decided that maybe I should focus on making several, and perfecting the fit as I go. So I had ordered three lengths of quilting cottons on sale. This was the first. Quilting fabric isn't created equal - the daffodil one was classic, with that body that's good in an a-line dress. After I was finished with it, I realized that I didn't like the shoulders, so I took a tuck on either side to bring in the edge.
It did the trick. I have narrow shoulders, but sometimes I like the slightly oversized look at the top. Not this time, but the tucks made it better. The second fabric is a black and dark blue batik. Batik fabric tends to be thinner, and I wasn't sure it was suited for the same silhouette, so I angled the pattern pieces out, to make it more a-line, and fuller, and I also brought in the center of the bodice a half inch, so I wouldn't have to make any tucks, if you get what I mean; just a different way of bringing the shoulders in toward the center. I think this was a good idea; I've put it on and it's looking promising. So tonight I was sewing some binding around the neckline when the sunset appeared out my window. The third fabric is a burgundy red. I washed it today, and it still feels silky - I'm not sure I want to make it in this same a-line shape. I have to think. But with present temps in the seventies, I won't be needing these that soon.
After five or so days in the nineties, with increasing humidity, the seventies are so welcome! Of course, we'll have humid days, but for today, the winds are strong, the sun was warm, and tonight it's going to be fifty two. Let the cool air blow - we have quilts. Speaking of warming things, lately when I make a cup of tea, I don't finish it, so today I used a smaller cup and finished the whole thing.
Not as small as a china teacup, but smaller than an average mug. Like Goldilocks.
I washed another window today; I can see that I need to give up the notion of spring or fall cleaning, and just do it as I can. But anyway, I found out that a small paintbrush is good for getting into the window tracks - and it is! What an idea!
I'm thrilled.
Friday, June 12, 2026
too humid
"Nature is no mere gathering of atoms but rather the outward form of God's imagination."
- Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet
We are hoping for a break in the humidity - they're talking of thunderstorms.
Monday, June 8, 2026
the ease of eternity
"What grieves us most, O Lord, is playing without joy your beautiful music, you who move us from day to day. We grieve at being always at the practice phase and our efforts are labored and lacking in grace. We grieve that people see us as heavily burdened, serious and clumsy. We grieve at being unable to display in our corner of the world, in the midst of our toil and our fatigue, the ease of eternity."
- Madeleine Delbrel
Sunday, June 7, 2026
leisurely things
"It was because Damerosehay did not change that in this chaotic, tumbling, terrifying world it was a place of such comfort."
- from Elizabeth Goudge's The Herb of Grace (1948)
Last week I'd felt the urge to re-read The Bird in the Tree, and now I'm reading this one, the second in the set of three. When I came upon the above sentence, I realized that is why I read certain novels again and again. It's non-fiction that I tend to pick up "new". It seems to me that if a book speaks strongly or deeply to you, there is a reason for it, and it's up to you to pursue that. Get out of it everything you are supposed to, although that makes it sound so much like use, when it's really like a drinking more and more deeply of something nourishing. Hopefully, anyway.
The liturgical year turns and today we are in the feast of Corpus Christi. Our church sits right at a busy intersection, and when it's not raining we go outside after mass and process around the property, stopping at four altars set up along the way. Often it's hot out, and I find it hard to stand in the bright sun but today we are having a really strong wind (which is delightful, I think!) and partly cloudy conditions which kept things comfortable. But as for proper June temperatures - we just don't have them. It should be in the seventies, and it's not, nor is it going to be, according to the forecasts. But I realize I'm often complaining about the weather over here. (sorry)
I made a simple dinner of chicken thighs, marinated in plenty of lemon juice, olive oil, smoked paptrika, garlic, salt and pepper, and baked at a high temp till done. Which took longer than the recipe said, but I don't like slimy chicken. But it was easy, after not falling asleep until two, and getting home from church much later than usual.
After seeing the rabbits often, lately I don't see them at all and I wonder if they've had babies. But there was one in my garden the other day, in one of the beds I'm not using at the moment, eating some weedy stuff. The garden is anything but neat, but if the creatures like it, perhaps it's not a weed
"But Sally did not want to be set free for anything, for it was living itself that she enjoyed. She liked lighting a real fire of logs and fir-cones and toasting bread on an old-fashioned toaster. And she liked the lovely curve of an old staircase and the fun of running up and down it. ... It's my stupid brain, she said to herself. I like the leisurely things, and taking my time about them."
Monday, June 1, 2026
birdsong and sunshine
"It was the glorified beauty of the familiar and habitable earth that she saw now, the trees and flowers and creatures that made up the sweetness of it, but soon she would see more. She would see the spirits of those she loved going about the purposes of God bathed in the light of His perpetual compassion...
one world inter-penetrates another; we live in them both, but... the language of the lesser is the language of dreams and birdsong, sunshine and the kindliness of man"
- Elizabeth Goudge, The Bird in the Tree
Sunday, May 31, 2026
feast of the Holy Trinity
Spirit of the Father and the Son,
ripen your fruits in our hearts:
Grant us patience and gentleness,
charity, joy, and peace.
- from Magnificat, May 2026
Well, last week was finally Pentecost, the end of the Easter season, and today is Trinity Sunday. It's very springlike, and pleasant out. Yesterday it was fifty five, wet, gusty and cold! Well, we'll be in June tomorrow, and done with that sort of thing, hopefully.
We had a nice Memorial Day and before that, a visit with an elderly aunt, my mother's remaining sister. She is ninety four, and doing as well as she can - still at home!
I finished the daffodil dress, except for the hem. I really like those sleeveless, a-line shifts for hot summer days at home, so I plan to make a couple more. I put the green blouse project aside when the heat rose - couldn't stand the thought of it.
A beautiful Tasha Tudor book was dropped off at the library, in perfect condition; I took it home to read.
Filled with quotes, poems, prose and everything romantic, I wouldn't put it in the children's section, even though it looks like all her wonderfully charming picture books for children - no, this one would go over the heads of the little ones. Apparently, if you have a toothache, you should kiss a donkey.
That was from Germany. But you're out of luck if you don't know anyone with a donkey, aren't you?
"In the Middle Ages they kissed the newborn baby three times
in the name of the Holy Trinity."
- Tasha Tudor
Friday, May 22, 2026
peace
"What is the peace of the world? Perhaps we would call it security or safety; the sense that physical walls and human strength, burgeoning bank accounts and spending capacity, or healthy bodies and modern medicine make us powerful enough to enact and ensure peace for ourselves. When those things fail, when we ourselves crumble in illness or crisis, when a pandemic unravels society, the peace of the world is no longer something we may acquire because it was always something to be bought. And sooner or later, we will all find ourselves impoverished by suffering.
The peace given by Jesus is entirely a gift."
- Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet
Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you.
- Jesus
Monday, May 18, 2026
thinking cool
My brother just brought up the smaller air conditioner for the spare room. We used to bring it up in time for July 4th, but it's been 90 for two days, and will be up near a hundred for the next two - I'm living on ice tea. Meanwhile, parts of Wyoming are having twenty inches of snow.
I cut out some quilting cotton for another sleeveless dress - of course, the heat wave will be gone by the time I complete it, but while this weather lasts, I can't think of anything but sleeveless. Meanwhile, because it's not August, the nights are cooler, at least. And the window fans come to the rescue.
I don't put them in "properly." I just stick the fan on the sill in front of the screen; it pulls the cooler air in just fine without all the fuss and fitting.
Sunday, May 17, 2026
waiting for the Holy Spirit
May the Lord send forth the Spirit
and renew the face of the earth!
Amen.
Thursday, May 14, 2026
Ascension Day
I dreamed about Dolly last night. She was outside, exploring; she was well! She was Dolly.
It was so good to see her. Make of that what you will.
We went to mass this morning - it is the Ascension of Jesus. forty days after Easter. I thought I'd make a nice dinner. I baked a small cake, coffee flavor with walnuts, no frosting. I then made a crustless quiche, with mushrooms and spinach - a little cheese. A romaine salad with blood oranges and a bit of yellow bell pepper, oil and vinegar dressing, and some chicken tenders marinated in a yogurt lemon herb mixture and baked.
our human nature is now at home with you in heaven.
May this truth be our lasting encouragement and hope.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Sunday, May 10, 2026
little neighbors
I went to Mass this morning in the city. The cathedral choir sang "If Ye Love Me" by Thomas Tallis. Just beautiful.
This morning I opened the kitchen window - maybe it was seven? From the corner of my eye I saw something run into the drain pipe. I thought it was a bird, and waited for it to come out, but it didn't. I don't know why I thought of a bird - why would a bird go into a pipe? Anyway, I came back soon after, and there was a chipmunk.
Can you tell that he's sitting up inside the cracked opening of the pipe, his little skeletal hands holding the edge? These photos were all taken through the screen, by the way. That "stuff'" near him is debris that always seems near the opening.
He would sit very still, no movement; if I made a noise or if he saw me, he'd scoot back inside the pipe. But not for long. A few times he came out to forage.
For a short while; he was being very cautious. When I left to go to church, Daisy was laying in the windowsill, watching him, tail flicking. And he seemed to be watching her, also.
It really seemed that he was looking up at her. So, contrary to what we usually do, I left the window open even thought I was going out. This was about ten fifteen. I was home at quarter to one, and he was still there! But after the shadows lengthened, I noticed he was gone. Not a good place to live full-time, but we'll see if he comes back another morning.
Meanwhile, last weekend I finally saw a catbird. I didn't hear anything the first day, but surely the trip must be exhausting. It wasn't long before I heard their warbling. They always hang out in the forsythia outside my window, but I've never seen a nest in there, so I'm not sure what they're doing, but they always come back. How amazing the bird journeys are! These apparently fly down to Florida or Cuba.
keep my commandments,
and I will pray the Father,
And he shall give you another comforter,
that he may abide with you for ever:
Even the spirit of truth.
Saturday, May 9, 2026
real life
"The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's 'own', or 'real' life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life - the life God is sending one day by day; what one calls one's 'real life' is a phantom of one's own imagination."
- C.S. Lewis
Thursday, May 7, 2026
with the light burning at the back of my eyes
We've had a lot of windy days lately, and today was one of them, but bright blue and clear. The temperatures are up and down, like they always are in spring. Too chilly for window-washing.
I have a piece of fabric for the dress bodice lining, but it's been put aside for a blouse I'm working on. What I would really like is to make something, to finish it! To wear it!
Daisy turned four the other day, and I totally didn't notice it. No worries, neither did she.
I'm re-reading Sarah Clarkson's Reclaiming Quiet:
"I hungered for quiet, not just the cessation of noise but that deep inward hush in which the kindness of God is the light burning at the back of our eyes so that we look upon the world in the brightness of his companionship."
Monday, May 4, 2026
blossoms everywhere
Perfect days like this make you forget the ones that went before - it was wonderful. Sunny, temperate, very breezy. I went out and wished I'd brought a camera because the pink cherry blossoms would flutter around in the wind, even into the back yard.
They are everywhere in the front, and all the way down the edges of the driveway - it looks like we've had a wedding here.
Meanwhile, the crabapple is fantastic - filled with white blossoms.
Once again, the birds never ate the fruit over the fall and winter, and I wasn't able to pick it with snow all around the tree, but that didn't get in the way of the blooming at all. I've always been partial to crabapple trees. When the cherry blooms, the leaves are there, too; the flowers are rosette-like - well, I've taken enough pictures of them over the years. But the crab blossoms take over the whole tree; there are leaves, but they're dwarfed by all the flowers. I also love the spreading habit of apple and crabapple trees. But don't tell the cherry - she's a brave one, and well-loved.
Sunday, May 3, 2026
kneaded long, to give you life
Refrain:
I received the living God,
and my heart is full of joy.
I received the living God,
and my heart is full of joy.
1 Jesus said: "I am the Bread
Kneaded long to give you life;
You who will partake of me
Need not ever fear to die." [Refrain]
2 Jesus said: "I am the Way,
And my Father longs for you;
So I come to bring you home
To be one with him anew." [Refrain]
3 Jesus said: "I am the Truth;
If you follow close to me,
You will know me in your heart,
And my word shall make you free." [Refrain]
4 Jesus said: "I am the Life
Far from whom no thing can grow,
But receive this living bread,
And my Spirit you shall know." [Refrain]
Monday, April 27, 2026
random feelings of the heart
The purple-leafed plum was blooming a week ago, and it was exciting to see: the first blooming tree. Four days later, it was over! We did have cold weather last week, but maybe it's a short-lived thing anyway - we haven't had that tree long enough for me to remember it's blooming habits. But now the cherry trees are all pink with the crabapples right behind. The grass is emerald, and everything is lush and hopeful.
I ripped the sleeves off the dress bodice, and detached it from the skirt. I took in the sides an inch. I think I want to make a lining, give it some substance. This may take a while.
Random feelings of the heart,
Ravings of a lone exile,
Stranger to the rules of art,
Let me robe in homely style.
- James Kennedy, 18th century
Sunday, April 26, 2026
"just live your ordinary life"
"Whoever said that to speak about Christ and to spread his doctrine, you need to do anything unusual or remarkable? Just live your ordinary life; work at your job, trying to fulfill the duties of your state in life, doing your job, your professional work properly, improving, getting better each day. Be loyal; be understanding with others and demanding on yourself. Be mortified and cheerful. This will be your apostolate. Then, though you won't see why...you will find that people come to you. Then you can talk to them, quite simply and...about the sort of longings that everyone feels deep down in his soul, even though some people may not want to pay attention to them: they will come to understand them better, when they begin to look for God in earnest."
- St. Jose Maria Escriva
Saturday, April 25, 2026
April Saturday
I tend to plan my blogging for the end of the day, but it often happens that I'm tired, or involved in something, or it's too late, or my mind just isn't there - anyway, I need a new routine.
My dress is slowly coming together - the bodice is sewn, the sleeves are on, the skirt is attached. It went over my head easily and I decided I wanted a higher bodice/skirt seam, so I've brought it up an inch. But I won't try it on until tonight - I don't always feel like putting my clothes on and off. I also noticed that the shoulder seams are too low; I mean that ideally, the bodice needs to be trimmed and the sleeves re-attached. I have also considered making two thin tucks along the top of each shoulder area to "bring in" the shoulder seam, without having to do it the long way. I chose the bodice size which I thought would fit me, but it's big. That's okay, but how much will I have to take things in before I have a hard time pulling it over the head? Which is why I didn't line the bodice. I was going to, but realized there might be issues. So, I creep along.
Sunday, April 19, 2026
a tranquil spirit
"We must contain ourselves in patience, remembering each morning that our main job is to love God and to serve him and if we don't get things done due to interruptions, well, it cannot be helped, and God will take care of what we leave undone. But a tranquil spirit is important. Saint Teresa says that God cannot rest in an unquiet heart. I have to remember that many times during the day."
- Dorothy Day, from Magnificat, April 2026
Monday, April 13, 2026
suddenly warm
I finished my skirt, which is just an a-line with elastic waist - very basic. Now I want to make a dress with some thrifted fabric.
Sunday, April 12, 2026
by whose spirit
God of everlasting mercy,
...increase, we pray,
the grace you have bestowed,
that all may grasp and rightly understand
at what font they have been washed,
by whose Spirit they have been reborn,
by whose Blood they have been redeemed.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you
in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
- Magnificat, April 2026
Saturday, April 11, 2026
still Easter
I hope everyone had a lovely Easter observance. Our orthodox friends will have it tomorrow. The season lasts until Pentecost - we have a nice, long way to go.
"But after pondering Christ's Passion, we will spend the rest of April and beyond rejoicing in the light of his Resurrection, learning to come alive in his life."
- Fr. Philip Nolan, from Magnificat, April 2026
Sunday, April 5, 2026
with the dead hath been
Love lives again,
That with the dead hath been.
Love is come again
Like wheat that springeth green...
Saturday, April 4, 2026
the strange, still day
Holy Saturday almost escapes us in the rush from Good Friday to Easter. What are we to make of this strange and silent day, thousands of years later and already knowing the outcome that tomorrow holds? Should we just focus on the festivities of Easter, only a few hours away? No, for Jesus did not pass instantaneously from death to the Resurrection, skipping over the loneliness and sadness that death introduces into our world. Thus, Holy Saturday consoles us, revealing that even the painful cold and deafening silence of death has been embraced by the Lord.
- from Magnificat, April 2026
"Holy Saturday is a strange, still day, hanging in an unresolved poise between the darkness of the day before and the light that is not yet with us."
This is ground zero, emptiness and space
With nothing left to say or think or do,
But look unflinching on the sacred face
That cannot move or change or look at you.
- Malcolm Guite
Friday, April 3, 2026
enough for everyone
Upon this wood his body bore
The nails, the taunts, the spear,
Till water flowed with blood to wash
The whole world free of fear.
Sunday, March 29, 2026
the inner Jerusalem
"There is an inner as well as an outer Jerusalem, and that therefore the events of Holy Week are both about Jesus' outward, visible and historical entry into Jerusalem and what he did there and then, and also about his entry into the inner Jerusalem, the 'seething holy city' as I have called it, of our own hearts. ...We have our own gates, walls and watchtowers, that somewhere within us there is both a temple and a seat of judgement, and both might need to be challenged and cleansed.
Can I invite Jesus into all of that? And if I do, what will happen?"
- from The Word in the Wilderness, by Malcolm Guite
Wednesday, March 25, 2026
sleeping with bears
"I was never more at ease than when sleeping with the bears. They were entirely without odor, without bad breath even two hours after eating overripe carrion, and without any kind of vermin other than ticks which I removed every day anyway. Aside from a little rambunctious eagerness to play when we first went to bed, their nighttime manners were impeccable. Once they began to snore softly, they rarely moved until morning, at which time I received a regular nose nudging when it came time to crawl out for a visit to the otter coign. I cannot recall their ever having deliberately awakened me. My first waking sight of each morning was three pairs of shiny, brownish-yellow eyes staring silently and affectionately into my face. Instead of wagging a short tail as a dog would do, each bear engaged in a rapid tapping of the claws of both front feet. Rusty introduced the routine, and the other two took it up at once."
- The Bears and I, Robert Franklin Leslie
This book is wonderful.
Monday, March 23, 2026
believe
"We say that we believe. And yet do we? At the slightest difficulty, we cry to God, and if he doesn't answer our prayer within the next five minutes or ten, or twenty-four hours, we begin to doubt. We need to get our heart in tune with God's heart. Because, you see, he's a lover, and he wants us to love him back. For this, he incarnated himself, lived as a man for a number of years, and died a martyr on a cross, all for me. And, by so doing, reconciled me with his Father. I believe that this is so.
When I believe, I am like a tree standing by the water, and I shall not be moved. Yet a tree can be hit by lightning. But for a man or a woman of faith, the lightning passes through them and doesn't touch them, because their faith is strong as God is strong. God doesn't abandon people.
You can say to me, Well, how do I get that kind of a faith? On your knees. (Maybe not literally on your knees, although kneeling can be a good position!) You ask for it. The God who has given you faith in baptism, when you died in Christ and resurrected in Christ, is not going to say 'no' to your request. If there is one request that he says 'yes' to all the time, always, it's a request to grow in faith.
Now and then we all feel tremors begin to shake our faith. Then we must ask God, implore him, beg him, to give us faith, to increase our faith."
- Catherine de Hueck Doherty
Saturday, March 21, 2026
little systems
I'm back to making bread; it seems, along with soup, a Lenten thing to have.
Here's the recipe The soup I made today was potato leek - so delicious! Here's the recipe, and I realized from reading this old post that I forgot the thyme. It was still good!
My skirt needs adjusting; it's too full, which would be pretty on some, but I like a little less of it.
Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
- Tennyson
Monday, March 16, 2026
bears, skirts and dinner
Meanwhile, tomorrow is the feast of St. Patrick; I'm working, so we had the dinner today. The crockpot did much of the work.
Sunday, March 15, 2026
love transforms
O God, your love for the world transforms darkness into light, hatred into love,
and persecution into peace through the gift of your only Son.
Make us true disciples in every circumstance of daily life, through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
- from Magnificat, March 2026
Thursday, March 12, 2026
darkness and light
Well, the split in my thumb is healed, and I stitched up the opening on the chair cushion. It was awkward using the curved needle, but not painful! It was not digging into my finger!
As I said, I had barely enough to cover it, but it's attached now, and I will figure out a patch to go over that area. This is on the back part of the cushion, so it won't be glaringly obvious.
It was so dark and dreary today, the cats slept most of it - it actually snowed, which would normally mean nothing in mid-March after the winter we've had, except that two days ago it was up near eighty; it was sunny, and everyone's spirits were lifted by it. Yesterday was also nice, but here we are back again. However, there is greening going on outside -
Yes, it's coming.
"Saint John of the Cross says our souls are like windows. Divine light is always there, beating on the panes, but often the panes are dirty so that the light cannot penetrate. Our task is very simple - not always easy, mind you, but basically simple! We do not have to make the sun shine. We do not have to create our own suns. All we have to do is let the sun in, and we do this by cleaning our windows. When they are free from every stain, the pure light pours in. We become like the Mother of God, who 'has this one work to do / Let all God's glory through' (Gerard Manley Hopkins).
Then the window - which is still there - is all one with the light, and in its own way has become light and light-giving. What is needed is great generosity, selflessness, trust, and patience.
True holiness - and remind yourself of this over and over again - has to do with very ordinary things: courage, self-denial, love for others, truthfulness, kindness, contentment with what God sends, dutifulness.... In short, all that matters, anytime, anywhere, is a strong, resolute cleaving to God."
Monday, March 9, 2026
a divine economy
"Most of us are under pressure, external and internal, to do everything, be good at everything, be accountable to everyone for everything! It is not so. In the divine economy each of us has a particular grace, gift and devotion. Finding out what that is, and learning how to be guilt-free about not doing everything else, may be part of what our Lenten journey is for."
- Malcolm Guite, The Word in the Wilderness
looking ahead
We're in for some very springlike temperatures this week. The snow has greatly receded, the grass is showing itself, along with puddly places and mud. I can see my raised beds. But there are still high snow mounds here and there.
I've been working on re-covering a chair pad which sits on the rocking chair. Annie slashed it when she was little, and ever since I've kept things in the chair to discourage them from even thinking about it. But I had some corduroy - barely enough - to try and make it nice again.
Sunday, March 8, 2026
a thirsty God
Jewish and Christian traditions of spirituality speak of the Word of God as the living water whereby the spirit is cleansed and refreshed. A quick sip - an occasional prayer snatched from the jaws of a relentlessly busy world - is better than no water at all, but roots that grow deep draw the water of life by frequent prayer. This living water produces a healthy tree that gives fruit to all who come.
- Magnificat, March 2026
- Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis
Sunday, March 1, 2026
transformation
"Lent is a time of transformation. As we gaze into the dark faith of prayer upon the glory of God revealed in Jesus Christ, we are transformed into his likeness."
- Magnificat, March 2026
"Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light."
- Matthew 17:1-2
Saturday, February 28, 2026
becoming renewed
The paths my brother plowed for the rabbits are getting wider, the grass in them is more visible. Water was running into the drains at the supermarket parking lot. It's been a little warmer. There will be more snow tomorrow, but I actually hung something out on the line today! It was very pleasant.
Breathe deep and be renewed by every breath,
Kinned to the keen east wind and cleansing air,
As though the blue itself were blowing through you.
- Malcolm Guite*
I bought some lamb and made Scotch broth today, and I had a very-belated revelation. I always buy the shoulder chops because that what I'm familiar with, and they're cheaper than other cuts. I bought two packages, and by the time I'd cut out all the bones and fat, what was left was a smaller amount than the pile of fat and bones. Is that economical? I had looked at the loin chop package, and noticed it seemed less fatty. l will have to try that next time. I'm making lots of soups this Lent, and am using every good recipe I've got. It's just the thing for this time of year.
*from The Word in the Wilderness
Monday, February 23, 2026
it could have been worse
At ten or eleven last night, visibility was low and snow was falling hard, but no wind. This morning the wind picked up, but the snow wasn't falling as vigorously. So, the heavy snowfall and the windy-ness didn't seem to happen at the same time. Is this a blizzard? I have seen worse, but I'm grateful it's past us and we didn't lose power.
I was reluctant to use the washer, in case we lost electricity while it was going; I was reluctant to cook any lengthy meals, in case things went black in the middle of it. So I rolled out a pie crust and baked it, then made a quiche later when things calmed down. The cats were very interested in the views outside. There is about a foot of it out there, including the four or so inches we began with. It really could have been much worse.
Sunday, February 22, 2026
turning aside
The snow started around or right after seven thirty; it isn't a blizzard yet, but they're saying it's going to be. Right now it's just falling steadily but gently. We threw out some carrots, in case the rabbits came around before the snow, but they didn't.
However, I later realized the storm door was unlocked, and when I locked it, there was one at the head of the driveway, looking for sunflower seeds beneath the snow. There are plenty there. I watched him several minutes, when he suddenly zigzagged into the neighbor's yard, and there he sat, near a pile of brush near the shed. Meanwhile another appeared on the side of the forsythia and just quietly sat for five minutes until he, too, came to look for seed. Then we noticed a third near the feeder where the carrots are, so maybe they will get some after all. Because we will get at least a foot of heavy snow, at times with very low visibility and I have no idea how they manage or what they do in snowstorms.
But there had been a hawk outside a few days ago, so I'm glad to see all three of them, still our little neighbors. But, what do they do? What do squirrels do in blizzards, when the wind gusts to forty five miles per hour? Can they stay in the trees?
Now, they've all converged under the bird feeder, while the snow is only an inch or so deep. Fill up, little friends, because it may be a long while before your next meal!
While I was watching them, I thought of the poem by R.S. Thomas, which was the Lenten meditation for today in Malcolm Guite's The Word in the Wilderness:
"Life is not hurrying on to a receding future,
nor hankering after an imagined past.
It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush."
Because I was standing there for a while; they weren't moving, so I didn't move, because I wanted to understand how they live.
But anyway, about the storm - we have plenty to eat, things to do and books to read. The town offices are already closed for tomorrow - my coworkers will have a day off.
I hope it won't be too bad.
The Bright Field
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise* now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
- R.S. Thomas
*realize the way the English spell it, with an "s"
where we're meant to be
"Life means the fullest possible give and take between the living creature and its environment: breathing, feeding, growing, changing. And spiritual life, which is profoundly organic, means the give and take, the willed correspondence of the little human spirit with the Infinite Spirit, here where it is; its feeding upon Him, its growth towards perfect union with Him, its response to His attraction and subtle pressure. That growth and that response may seem to us like a movement, a journey, in which by various unexpected and often unattractive paths, we are drawn almost in spite of ourselves - not as a result of our own over-anxious struggles - to the real end of our being, the place where we are ordained to be..."
- Evelyn Underhill
Thursday, February 19, 2026
Being, the essence of a spiritual life
"When we life our eyes from the crowded by-pass to the eternal hills; then, how much the personal and practical things we have to deal with are enriched. What meaning and coherence come into our scattered lives. We mostly spend those lives conjugating three verbs: to Want, to Have, and to Do. Craving, clutching, and fussing, on the material, political, social, emotional, intellectual - even on the religious - plane, we are kept in perpetual unrest; forgetting that none of these verbs have any ultimate significance, except so far as they are transcended by and included in, the fundamental verb, to Be: and that Being, not wanting, having, and doing, is the essence of a spiritual life."
- Evelyn Underhill, Essential Writings
Wednesday, February 18, 2026
at home, yet a stranger
I just finished In This House of Brede with an online group - an excellent story! So many characters, so many personalities and lots going on. I remember Diana Rigg being in the film version but don't think I've watched it, so that's what I'm going to do. I'll keep my expectations low, since I can't imagine the whole story fitting into a two-hour or less movie.
I discovered a mostly-done skirt in my fabric stash - it's an olive cotton knit, made up just like my gray knit skirt, and only needed an elastic for the waist. I finished it off, and it's waiting to be ironed. I tried taking a photo, but the right color is so hard to get!
I've started looking at my gardening books, even though the snow on the ground is still a few inches deep. There was some rain today, which will melt things a little faster. I'm also looking at all the books I own with a critical eye - do I really need you? I have a cookbook with recipes for many pantry type foods, and I noticed a recipe for chocolate yogurt. I bought a gallon of the only pasteurized milk at the store (as opposed to ultra-pasteurized) and made some. It calls for very little sugar, but I have it with a bit of honey. As I was ladling it into the jars, I noticed it looked more chocolate-y at the end than the top. I was stirring it well the whole time, but milky things often stick to the bottom of the pot, and when they do, you don't want to scrape it when you stir in case it may turn up solids which aren't going to dissolve. So I stirred frequently but carefully,and more of the chocolate stayed near the bottom.
It's Lent.
"To take the ashes is to confess kinship with this world of dust, to declare our readiness to abdicate pretensions to omnipotence. Standing before God in this way, I profess that I am not God. I admit the chasm that separates me from him. I accept the uncomfortable otherness of God. He is what I am not, yet my being bears his mark. I crave a completion no created thing can give. I walk this earth as yearning incarnate. I am at home, yet a stranger, homesick for a homeland I recall but have not seen."
- Bishop Erik Varden, from Magnificat, February 2026
Monday, February 16, 2026
resisting the machine
But his universality comes about in another way, too. For the very terms of his critique are mythic; after all, that is ultimately the most (and perhaps even only) effective way to counter a worldview which is rigidly rationalistic and scientistic. And there is literally nowhere in the world without some native tradition of a mythical way of relating to the world in which it is alive and saturated with spiritual meaning - enchanted, in a word. Those traditions may be deeply buried, but - like the gods they embody - they can still be revived by recognition."











































